


New, New, New, New Doctor

by Bittie752



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-18
Updated: 2013-09-18
Packaged: 2017-12-26 23:36:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/971622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bittie752/pseuds/Bittie752
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short take on what might be going through the Doctor's mind if Eleven regenerated into a woman.  Specifically, if Billie Piper were to take the part.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New, New, New, New Doctor

**Author's Note:**

> This is for my gender swap square on Trope Bingo card.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Written before the announcement of Peter Capaldi as the 12th Doctor.

The tang of regeneration energy lingered at the back of his, well, now her, throat as he ran his hands over his, her, new yet hauntingly familiar curves. She sighed. Personal pronouns were going to be tricky with this new body. Well over 1,200 year spent as a male and he'd gone and turned into a woman, a gorgeous woman. A brilliant, fantastic woman but it was wrong. It had all gone wrong.

He'd regenerated into _her_ , into the exact image of his Rose Tyler. His new face was that of a woman he'd spent years hopelessly in love with and yet could never have. Would never let himself have.

How ironic was it that now he could experience, feel, this body the way he had always wanted to but she wasn't here to share it? Regret for all those missed opportunities flooded through his new body. He, no, she swallowed hard as the aubergine jacket was shucked aside.

New Doctor, new wardrobe.

Hands skimmed over different textures: leather, tweed, cotton. Stopping on denim, he pulled out a pair of jeans. Jeans were safe; he wasn't even going to think about skirts or dresses.

A shudder ran down his spine as he thought about how much had changed in his Twelfth incarnation. He supposed he'd have to learn to style his/her hair and her makeup. She grimaced. That sounded taxing, to say the least.

Quickly grabbing a pair of leather boots, a magenta jumper and a fitted black leather jacket, he finished dressing. Somehow she had the feeling that this wasn't going to be the only outfit he donned now. There was an underlying need for variety coursing through his veins. That probably came more from having seen her in an array of different outfits, each one flattering her figure, than from his new gender.

After dismissing a completely horrifying thought of trying on the clothes left behind, the Doctor surveyed herself in a nearby full length mirror. Her face stared back at him, but it wasn't the same. It was the eyes. The eyes were all wrong. It was her color, but they held that ancient, haunted quality of a man who'd lost so much. Of a man who'd taken so much from others.

Her shoulders sagged in guilt while taking one last look in the mirror. This regeneration was condemned to misery. Condemned to face his poor choices again and again until he and death met again. Condemned to live with the face of an angel but the soul of a monster.

* * *


End file.
